


maybe i’m forgotten, maybe i’m gone

by Pls_go_away



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Their relationship could be romantic or platonic, Unhappy Ending, its really up to interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pls_go_away/pseuds/Pls_go_away
Summary: There comes a time when the cracks grow too wide and you can’t hold on any longer. When the world spins on around you, and you’re stuck in place, watching everything crumble to dust as you desperately grasp at the pieces that are too far gone to save.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 69





	maybe i’m forgotten, maybe i’m gone

Hey,

I’m not doing too great right now. And I guess, I guess that I’m supposed to talk to someone about things like this right. _Right?_

It’s kind of hard to talk to someone when you're alone. And am I even really alone? Because you’re here, you and all of the other people are right there, just out of reach, standing in the fog, close enough to see, but always too far away. 

You’re just right there, and if I take a step forward, I can reach- I can! But stepping forward takes effort and energy and right now, those are absent.

They really shouldn’t be, I should be able to get up. Getting up is easy, and There’s nothing wrong! I can get up and leave, I can do that. I’m fine. It doesn’t matter that my chest feels too tight and that my hands are shaking. It doesn't matter. It doesn’t. I’m fine. _I’m Fine._ **_I’m fine._**

See, if I say it enough it becomes true. True enough at least. It’s good enough for me. For now at least. 

Isn’t it funny, how when you say a word enough it loses its meaning. 

I keep saying I’m fine, but I think that to me at least, fine doesn’t mean fine anymore. But I’d rather lie to myself than admit the truth- admit that I’m not okay, because if I’m not okay, then I admit that there is a problem, that I have, that I can’t fix, that will give all the people around me a reason to hate me, 

They already don’t like me, I know, even though they say otherwise

After all, actions speak louder than words, and they tell me very plainly in their actions that they don’t really care. Always moving on to the next topic, brushing off what I try to say, not taking more than a moment to acknowledge that I’m even here. And it hurts- it really fucking hurts when my messages and words are so clearly a cry for help, or at least they were. 

Now, I just hide behind jokes and masks and false pretenses and barely speak at all. Slowly fading into the background, into their memories, because they don’t really care, there's always someone else, who’s better or funnier or more fun to be around. 

And I know that I’m just being a burden, asking them to solve my problems, to help me when I don’t provide anything in return, and I don’t want to be a burden, I want to have friends, and I know that I’m just being a burden, just causing them pain, but it still hurts when they don’t notice when I start wearing long sleeves all the time when I stop going out when I talk less and slowly fade out of the picture. 

And you? I thought that you might care, that you might be someone who cared, who was different, but you left, you disappeared, just there one day and gone the next. And maybe you were like me, crying out for help, and no one noticing, and you eventually decided that it was too much, that you couldn’t take it. And I get it- I do, but now I’m really alone, and there’s truly no-one.

And maybe it was my fault, maybe I pushed them away, but it still hurts,  _ it hurts, _ so so much. I just wish that they made an effort, an effort to stay, to help, to reach out and try, to care. 

And blaming them is wrong because it’s really not their fault- but if it’s not their fault then it’s mine, and I can’t blame myself, even if I am the one at fault, I’m already too close to shattering- the cracks are numbered one too many, and any more weight will cause me to crumble to dust because I admit it, I’m not fine,  _ I’m not.  _

I’m not okay, and I’m alone, and the life that I worked so hard to build has crumbled around me. I built it from struggles and pain while working to meet the impossible standards that I was held to- by myself or others, it doesn’t particularly matter now, all that really matters is that I met the standards, I met them, and exceeded everyone’s expectations, and I got to the top.  _ I got to the top _ . 

And I managed to cling to that ledge, to the top of that precipice. I held on for as long as I could, and to everyone, it looked like I had it made like I was living the best life you could have, but what no one could see was what it took to get there, what the cost of it was. 

It destroyed me- tore me down from the inside out, and the whole time I was falling apart, struggling to hide the cracks. But acting can only go so far, and there’s only so much a person can take before they truly shatter beyond repair.

And I think I reached that point a while ago, but I held on, scrabbling at the edge, desperately trying to hold one, lying to myself just as much as to everyone else, that I was fine,  _ I was fine.  _

Looking back, I see all of the signs, all of the little flags that should have let me or anyone else know that something was wrong, that I wasn’t as okay as I said I was, but I guess I got too good at hiding it. 

Good enough to hide it from myself, or maybe I wasn’t that good at hiding, maybe I just didn’t want to see what was there because if I saw it- if I acknowledged it, I would finally fall from the edge, I wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer. 

And now I guess, I can’t deny it anymore, I can’t lie to myself any longer, because it’s just so plain to see, the cracks have grown too large and too many and I’m crumbling into ash and dust.

My chest is too tight and my hands are shaking and my head is spinning and the lines on my arms number too many to count, a faded canvas of hash marks that bear evidence of my falling apart. And I know, deep down, as much as I want to keep lying to myself, that it’s too late to reach out, that if I truly was going to get help, I needed to reach out so long ago, but I guess this is a last act of desperation- a final plea into empty space for someone to help me, someone to care.

But no one’s listening, so this will fall on empty ears, after all, no one will know I’m gone because there’s no one left to care.

* * *

I leaned back against the trunk of the tree I was sitting under, wiping at the tears trailing down my cheeks. The letter is gripped tightly in my shaking hands, worn thin at the creases. 

It’s only been three days, but I’ve read it more times than I can count, pouring over the words written in shaky handwriting that is undeniably  _ his.  _

I’ve poured over every word and spent hours looking back, and it’s so very obvious looking back, so undeniably presented right there. And I ignored all the signs, I pushed as much as he did and I left,  _ I left, and I caused this, it’s my fault, I caused this, it’s my doing, mine. _

I let the letter fall from my grasp and drift to the ground as I grip my head with my hands. I shudder as I start to sob, a mantra of “ _ my fault, I did this, I’m the reason he’s gone _ ” repeating in my head.

Slowly, as if the universe was mocking my misery, rain starts to fall from the sky. I scramble to grab the letter, and finally, look at the tombstone that I’m here to see

_ Dream _

_ 1999 - 2020 _

_ “Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing.” -Oscar Wilde _

I glance back down at the letter, finally folding it shut, so that a single line acne be seen, a single name, written in the handwriting of someone who’s never coming back, who’ll never laugh or smile hug me again, can be seen: 

_ George. _

  
  
  


.End

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic for this fandom, and my first published fic ever. So I hope you like it! Kudos and comments are appreciated! :D


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